


Looking After Hermione

by amidland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidland/pseuds/amidland
Summary: As a break from the stresses of moving house, Harry treats his girlfriend, Hermione, to a day full of dates for Valentine's Day. Only, when do Harry's plans always work out perfectly?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 42
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Valentine's Day Contest 2021





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HMS_Harmony_Discord_VDay_Contest_2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HMS_Harmony_Discord_VDay_Contest_2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> “That might just be the least romantic thing you’ve said to me.”

**Looking After Hermione  
**' _That might just be the least romantic thing you've said to me.'_

* * *

**\- I -  
Moving In**

'I think that's the last one,' Harry panted as he placed the last of the cardboard moving boxes down on the ground in what would soon become their living room. 'At least, I hope it is. I reckon my back will break if I try to pick anything else up today.'

Just over a year and a half after he and Hermione had started dating, they were finally (officially) moving in together. After what had since become dubbed the 'Battle of Hogwarts', and the consequential end of the Second Blood War, they had travelled to Australia together to restore Hermione's parents' memories and bring them home.

It had taken him and Hermione a couple of weeks to track them down, as they had left the town they'd agreed upon with Hermione and moved to Adelaide. Other than that, the trip had gone on without a hitch - they had spent just over a week helping the Grangers get their affairs in order and pack up what they wanted to bring home before flying back to Britain and helping them set back up in Hermione's childhood home in Newbury.

After that, they had joined the scores of volunteers in the reparation efforts at Hogwarts, fixing everything from walls to greenhouses to furniture to the quidditch stands. Harry had initially decided that he wouldn't be returning to the school to complete his seventh year, instead accepting the Ministry's offer to award him his NEWTs in exchange for services rendered. However, over the two months they'd been working together in the castle Hermione had managed to change his mind, which led to a spur of the moment kiss in the middle of the Great Hall, leading in turn to the two of them actually dating.

He ended up being quite thankful for Hermione's convincing once he'd had a discussion with Andromeda about the NEWT requirements for Healer training in the new year, and had opted to pursue that line of work. Practically every Ministry department had been headhunting him since about a month after the final battle, none more ardently than the Auror Corps, but he wasn't much for politics or paperwork and figured that he'd had enough fighting for a lifetime. It was time to let someone else take care of Dark wizards and witches for a while.

Graduation came and went, with Harry joining the staff at St Mungo's and Hermione rightfully earning a place in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as their House Elf Liaison. For the first few months of his Healer training, Harry had sort of floated between living at Grimmauld Place, staying with Andromeda and Teddy, and spending the odd night here and there with Hermione in the flat she had rented in London.

After a while, the odd night here and there had become most weekends. Most weekends soon became the odd week. The odd week quickly turned into pretty much all of the time, and Hermione finally asked when he was going to move the rest of his things in. A short discussion had followed where they'd ultimately decided that the flat was probably a bit too small for the two of them and a toddler every other weekend, so they decided to find a house together.

Which really had sounded like a fantastic idea to Harry, right up until the point that he had seen the number of boxes filled with Hermione's books. Obviously he knew how much she read, and logically that it must have meant that she owned a lot of books, but even still, twenty-three moving boxes _full_ of books was a bit much. Worse still, he couldn't use magic to shift them because they'd moved into a muggle neighbourhood. It'd be a miracle if his arms ever forgave him.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics as she looked up from the book she was reading. 'Honestly, it can't be that bad.'

'It can, and it is.' He gave a great heaving sigh as he dropped onto the sofa next to her. The sofa was the only piece of furniture they owned at the moment and had turned out to be an absolute godsend. It was nothing particularly fancy: a grey, L-shaped piece that was arguably too big for the room, but it was really quite comfortable and, critically, it was free. Andromeda had been trying to get rid of it for months but nobody would take it off her hands; even when she stopped trying to sell it and advertised it as free to whoever would pick it up, she hadn't been able to literally give it away. When he had asked if she was still trying to get rid of it last week, she couldn't get him to take it away fast enough.

The most important thing about the sofa, though, was that it gave them somewhere to sleep. They were supposed to have gotten the keys to the house last week, which would have given them plenty of time to move everything from Hermione's flat, collect the last few belongings of Harry's that hadn't made it to her flat yet, buy furniture for the house, and get settled in.

Of course, his life was never that easy, though, and they'd not been given the keys until that morning, and they had to be out of Hermione's flat by 5pm that evening. Foolishly thinking that he wouldn't be needing it any more, Harry had already offered up Grimmauld Place to George as a test site for some of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes more egregious prototypes. On top of that, Andromeda's spare bedroom was barely big enough for one, let alone two, and the Grangers had converted Hermione's old bedroom into a home office.

All of which meant that the L-shaped sofa was also their bed for the next two nights until they could go out and actually buy themselves one. Two nights, of course, because tomorrow was the fourteenth of February, and it wouldn't be right to spend Valentine's Day furniture shopping. When he'd said this to Hermione, she'd (rather predictably) told him not to be ridiculous and that having a bed was more important than going out on a date. He'd disagreed, she'd got frustrated, and ultimately he'd had to let the kneazle out of the bag and tell her that he'd already made plans for the day.

That little bit of information had succeeded in stopping the discussion but had also had the unwelcome side effect of Hermione grilling him relentlessly on what those plans were. He wasn't called Iron-Will Potter for no reason, though, and he'd steadfastly refused to tell her anything more, saying that she'd just have to wait and see. Actually, nobody called him Iron-Will Potter, and for very good reason. Scratch that thought.

Hermione stirred him from his musings with a slight clearing of her throat. He raised his head from where he'd dropped it back against the sofa to find her regarding him with a small, mischievous smirk. 'You know, you could have just cast a featherlight charm on the boxes.'

The expression of disbelief that settled on his face was so clear that he could almost see it in his reflection in her smug little eyes. 'And you couldn't have mentioned that three hours ago?'

'It slipped my mind.'

He scoffed. 'I doubt that.' She flushed adorably and averted her eyes before mumbling something inaudibly. 'What was that?'

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. 'I said you looked hot carrying the boxes.'

Harry shook his head, half still in disbelief, half in amusement. 'And what if I'd injured myself?'

'You're a healer,' she replied sheepishly.

'In training!'

'I'm sure you'd have managed.'

He closed his eyes and returned his head to its place on the back of the sofa. 'You're unbelievable.'

A small hand wormed its way into his and a head rested on his shoulder. 'You love me anyway,' she sing-songed.

'I do,' replied Harry as he turned and kissed her on the top of her head.

* * *

**Author's Note:** An absolutely massive thanks to Bob49 from the HMS Harmony Discord server for beta-ing this story for me.


	2. Breakfast On Sofa

**\- II -  
Breakfast On Sofa**

For dinner that night, they'd decided on pizza. While Harry had gone out to pick it up, Hermione had searched for the box that contained the bedding from her flat and their pyjamas before transfiguring the sofa so that it more closely resembled a bed. After eating, they settled down for a quiet evening in - normally in the evening they'd sit and watch the television for a few hours before going to bed, but that TV had come with the fully-furnished flat, so they had to settle for a night of reading, which suited her just fine.

The sofa-turned-bed was a little smaller than the queen size bed they had gotten used to, but all that meant was that she had to snuggle closer to him which wasn't much of a hardship at all. On balance, the sofa had actually turned out to be just as comfortable as any other bed she'd slept on, though whether that was a comment on the sofa itself or the fact that she lay half on top of her boyfriend was anybody's guess.

In the morning, Hermione awoke feeling well-rested but soon found the bed to be bereft of its other occupant, her arms wrapped around a pillow in his place. She stretched and wiped the sleep from her eyes as she frowned at her boyfriend's absence before suddenly the divine aroma of bacon and sausages and eggs and tomatoes drifted into the room through the ajar kitchen door.

For the best part of two days, she'd been playfully getting on Harry's nerves about his plans for the day and it seemed like the wait was finally over: apparently, the day was to begin with breakfast-in-bed, or rather, breakfast-on-sofa. It wasn't that she didn't like surprises, or that she wanted the surprise ruined; no, she loved surprises. The problem lay in the fact that she loved mysteries even more, and the idea of the unknown had sparked her curiosity. He'd done a valiant job of hiding any clues, though.

The kitchen door swung open, perhaps with a little more force than intended, evidently due to Harry's opening it with his foot rather than his hands which were tied up in carrying a tray.

Seeing she was awake, he smiled. 'Morning. How long have you been awake?'

'Not long,' she replied, returning his smile. 'I think the smell of your cooking woke me up.'

As she sat up, Harry placed the tray onto her lap, and she got her first look at the offering: a plate, atop which lay a full cooked breakfast, the aroma of which was stronger and even more heavenly than it had been from a room away. He had prepared for her all of her favourites - there was bacon cooked to be crispy, grilled sausages and tomatoes, two fried eggs and two hash browns, a small serving of fried onions, and some ketchup to one side. The tray held a large cup of tea, too, made so precisely how she liked it that it looked as though she could have made it for herself.

'Where's yours?' she asked, looking up from the treat he'd provided.

'I've already eaten. I've actually got to go and pick something up last-minute before we start the day, so I'll leave you to eat in peace.' That news had her pouting slightly at him, but he smiled warmly and ruffled his hand through the absolute bird's nest that was her hair in the morning. 'I won't be long, I promise. It's just that moving in yesterday meant that I couldn't get everything sorted out.'

She screwed her nose up slightly and narrowed her eyes consideringly at him for a moment before relenting. 'Fine, but only because you made me breakfast.'

'The fastest way to your heart is through your stomach,' he quipped before bending down and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. 'I love you. See you in a minute.'

'I love you too.'

And with that, he whisked himself out the front door, leaving her with nothing else to do but eat the meal he'd prepared for her. Her stomach rumbled then, voicing its opinion that just smelling it wasn't nearly enough. It wasn't wrong, either. After just the first bite she found herself thanking any and all divine beings for blessing her with Harry Potter and his cooking. Never before had breakfast been an exercise in restraint, but today she was struggling not to wolf down the entire plate of food in just three bites.

After a conscious effort to savour the food over the space of a good few minutes, she drained her tea and frowned slightly at the front door. Really, she knew she had no right to expect him home already, but the fact that he'd been so vague about when she could expect him back at all was slightly suspicious. Stretching as she rose from the sofa, she collected the tray and returned it to the kitchen to clean up in order to give herself something to do while she waited for Harry to return.

As she placed the pots into the sink, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention: a stack of four envelopes on the kitchen worktop beside the stove, the top of which was addressed to ' _My Darling Girlfriend_ ', so evidently it was left for her - well, it better have been. She dried her hands on the hand towel that Harry had left beside the sink, having used it for the same purpose, and turned her attention fully to the letters. The second in the pile was addressed the same, as were the third and the fourth. Upon turning them over, however, she found the distinguishing feature between them: they were labelled one to four in roman numerals.

By now her curiosity was almost palpable and she opened the first envelope with no small amount of enthusiasm (though not so much enthusiasm that she didn't take care not to rip the envelope). The envelope contained another, smaller, envelope, and a small card made of smooth, heavy vellum with a message written upon it in her boyfriend's distinctive scrawl.

_Hermione,_ the note began, confirming that she was indeed its intended recipient. She hadn't actually doubted that fact, but it was still nice to be reminded regardless. Her eyebrows furrowed into a frown, however as she read how the message continued.

_Allow me first to profusely apologise for lying to you. I'm not there with you right now, but imagine for a moment that I'm on my knees before you, grovelling and begging for your forgiveness. I told you that I wouldn't be out of the house for long when in actual fact I'll be gone for a couple of hours. I do have a very good reason for my absence though._

_Inside the enclosed envelope you'll find the first item on the day's agenda for which you will have to dress appropriately, though I'm sure that fact will not come as a surprise to you when you see the tickets. I'll be back at home at twelve to pick you up, which I hope should give you plenty of time to get ready._

_Don't open the other three envelopes yet, but_ _please_ _don't forget to bring them with you. Your memory is better than mine, I know, but they are quite important for the rest of the day._

_I hope you'll forgive my deception. Know that it came with the best intentions and that I love you dearly._

_Forever yours,_

_Harry._

Try though she might to hold a grudge against his bending of the truth, the fact of the matter was that the note had given her a soppy little grin that his dedication to surprising her could really only reinforce. She wondered idly for a moment on what he could have planned that would require dressing a certain way, but her curiosity soon won out over her consideration and she opted to open the smaller envelope and just find out.

Despite her not knowing what to expect, she was still stunned to find the answer. In her hand, she held two invitations which sent her heart aflutter when she saw them both addressed to 'Mr & Miss H. J. Potter'. The line above the names read 'Afternoon Tea for Two, 1:30pm'. At the top of the ticket was an emblem which depicted a lion which sat upon the name of the establishment: 'The Ritz London'.

_Oh, Harry_.


	3. Spoilt Rotten

**\- III -  
Spoilt Rotten**

A knock on the door had Hermione darting into the hallway as she fussed over her hair for the last time. After much deliberation, she had decided to wear a modest but fitting black dress with a light grey cardigan and small black heels. Of course she knew that The Ritz had a smart dress code, but it was much more straightforward for men than women. On top of that, she didn't actually know just how smart Harry had dressed, and the uncertainty had done nothing for her nerves.

With a puff of breath, she opened the door to find her boyfriend standing on the doorstep with a slightly sheepish smile on his face. He was dressed in a very well fitted grey two-piece suit that matched her cardigan with a white shirt and black tie. Whether or not it had been deliberate on Harry's part, the fact that they'd managed to match outfits without organising it beforehand gave her a warm fuzzy feeling. They really did know each other well.

'This is your house too, you know?' she asked him with a smirk. 'You don't have to knock.'

The sheepish look on his face grew more pronounced and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 'I didn't know if you'd be put out with me for leaving you on your own all morning.'

She jutted her chin and pretended to look at him consideringly for a moment before breaking the act and beaming at him. 'You're taking me to The Ritz; I can be put out with you later.'

'Right,' he smiled. 'Have you got the other envelopes?'

'They're in here,' she confirmed, gesturing with the clutch in her hand.

'And you haven't opened them yet?

'Despite my curiosity, no. I can follow instructions, you know.' His raised eyebrow at that retort had her screwing her nose up at him and hitting him playfully on the shoulder. 'Prat.'

He laughed and then bit his lip nervously. 'Are you ready?'

As a response, she gave an enthusiastic nod. 'Let me just lock up and we can go.' After grabbing her keys from the back of the door, she locked up the house and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as they set off down the path of their front garden. 'How are we getting there?' she asked.

Instead of responding, Harry opened the gate and gestured her through. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but followed his guidance. Once beyond the bounds of their new home, she looked around the street. Her eyes quickly landed on a stately silver Bentley parked just a little way up from their house, the driver of which was standing beside an open rear door. Her eyebrows shot up and she spun back to her boyfriend who was just closing the gate behind himself.

'Harry, you didn't?' she asked incredulously.

He smiled at her. 'His name is Albert and he's got quite a few stories from driving people around.' Seeing her face grow more disbelieving, he changed tack. 'I didn't really fancy either of us taking public transport dressed like this and I plan on drinking today so I couldn't hire a car.'

'This must have cost you a fortune!'

'It's no less than you deserve. Come on.'

They got into the car with a polite 'Good morning, Miss,' from the driver who shut the door behind them. The whole drive into London went by in what felt like an instant with Albert entertaining them with his tales; Harry had been absolutely right about the man having some interesting stories about previous passengers, a number of whom were quite well-known muggle celebrities.

Upon their arrival at the front doors of The Ritz, the driver got out and opened the car door for her to let her out. Harry let himself out on the other side and walked around the car, offering his arm once he reached her side. The doorman greeted them and gave them directions towards The Palm Court, where the afternoon tea was served. A fuzzy feeling filled her from tip to toe as her boyfriend introduced them as 'Table for Potter' to the hostess while she handed over their invitations.

It really was no wonder that the experience of dining here was as sought after as it was. A harpist in the corner provided an almost magical ambience as they were ushered through the room and to their table. Glittering gilded chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their light reflected by a number of intricately designed mirrors that were spaced about the room. Beside a number of the polished granite pillars were potted plants, giving the whole of The Palm Court a relatively homely feel despite its opulence.

They were guided to a table at the back of the room, upon which lay crockery and cutlery so perfectly set that she almost felt bad to have to move it to eat. Harry pulled a chair out for her and helped her with her cardigan before pushing her in as she sat. Honestly, they were barely more than an hour into his plans for the day and already she felt like a princess. This boy was going to be the death of her.

He flashed her a slightly smug little grin as he sat opposite her, but dazzled as she was, she couldn't bring herself to rebuke him. Instead, she offered him a beaming smile in return and reached across the table to hold his hand.

'Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione,' he said softly as he squeezed her hand in his.

'I love you so much,' she replied.

In an instant, a cheeky smirk appeared on his face. 'Good. You made it difficult enough for me to plan today behind your back. It's the least you could do to love me for all the effort.'

She laughed suddenly, his blithe sarcasm having taken her completely by surprise. 'Prat,' she scolded amusedly, gently slapping his hand for good measure.

'I love you too,' he said after sharing in her laughter for a moment.

Soon after, a waiter arrived at the table and took their orders. Deciding on the tea proved to be surprisingly difficult - the menu offered no less than eighteen different types of loose-leaf tea, which was arguably too many different types to choose from. Having made their choices, she and Harry made easy conversation about everything and nothing: when they would go furniture shopping for their house, what colour they would paint the living room, whether or not they should get a pet once they'd settled.

Spending time with Harry had always felt like this. They'd always been able to talk freely to each other about whatever they were thinking. Their conversations meandered and flowed from topic to topic naturally. When a conversation reached its natural end, the silence that followed was always comfortable. There were never any awkward attempts to begin talking anew by either of them. Both were independently and wholly content with one another's company.

A selection of small sandwiches had been served to them at some point during their conversation and was followed a short while later by a three-tiered stand of cakes and pastries, the flavour and quality of which they had both remarked upon appropriately. Once they had finished with the food and had ordered a second pot of tea each, Hermione's curiosity reached fever pitch and she finally asked the question she'd been wanting the answer to for more than two hours.

'What are the other envelopes for, by the way?' she asked with as casual an air as she could muster. The smile Harry gave at the question, though, suggested that she hadn't managed to sound nearly as natural as she had hoped to.

He leant back in his chair and gestured vaguely in the direction of her handbag on the floor beside her. 'Why don't you open the second and find out?'

She didn't need to be told twice. With an energy that she only ever managed to muster for the promise of new information, she grabbed her bag and plucked out the envelope marked on the reverse as the second. She stopped herself from opening it for just a moment to look up at Harry, making sure that she really should open it. At his nod, she broke the seal on the back of the envelope and found its contents to be similar to the first: a vellum card and another, smaller, envelope.

As before, she read the handwritten note first.

_Happy Valentine's Day, love._

_I hope you're enjoying the day. If not (or even if so, I guess), there's more to come for you to get excited about. Today is entirely about giving you the sort of day you deserve, and so that includes us both doing a selection of your favourite things. Of course, all of your days begin with tea, and so today had to as well._

_Next on the agenda is something that I know you don't get to do as often as you'd like to. I don't know very much about these things, but this came highly recommended by your mum, so fingers crossed that it's a good one._

_Go ahead and open the envelope. I won't keep you in suspense any longer._

_Forever yours,_

_Harry._

Following his instructions, she took the smaller envelope in hand and opened it up. She upended its contents into her hand and found herself with two tickets in her hand once more, these ones for a West End show. The tops of the tickets revealed the venue to be St Martin's Theatre - well known amongst fans of theatre for hosting the longest ever run of a show on the West End: The Mousetrap by Agatha Christie.

Hermione looked up at her boyfriend with wide eyes. 'Harry...'

A concerned expression almost immediately came across his face. 'Is that okay? Your mum told me you hadn't seen it before, and I couldn't remember you mentioning it since we left Hogwarts -'

'No,' she said quickly, stopping his endearingly nervous rambling, 'I haven't seen it before. It's just - this is a lot.'

Now it was his turn to interrupt her. 'Maybe, but you deserve it all and more. How about we agree not to mention the cost or anything like that until tomorrow? In the morning you can tell me off all you like, but let's just enjoy today, yeah?'

It was a sensible idea, but she couldn't help scrunching her nose up at him a little. They'd already taken an hour-long private car trip and had afternoon tea at The Ritz on its busiest day of the year. The theatre tickets were only the second of four things he clearly had planned, too. Harry's expression turned slightly pleading, and she finally acquiesced. 'Okay. Let's enjoy today.'

The beaming smile he gave her in response cemented that she had made the right choice. 'Good. Let's go then.'

-o-

A few hours after their conversation at The Ritz, Hermione practically floated rather than walked out of St Martin's Theatre. The Mousetrap had been high on her list of shows that she wanted to see for quite some time and it had absolutely lived up to her expectations.

She had loved Agatha Christie's works since she had first stumbled across one when she was nine years old - it had been a collection of short stories that a lot of people hadn't actually liked when they were released. After that, she'd read almost all of the Poirot and Marple stories, and had been meaning to see The Mousetrap since leaving Hogwarts, but she'd never gotten around to it.

'And I'm so glad that they ask the audience not to talk about the ending so that it's not spoiled for anybody who comes to watch it later. I always find it so frustrating when people ruin the endings of stories for others, especially for mysteries,' she found herself explaining to Harry. Pausing for a moment, she looked around and realised that they'd left the theatre and had started down one of the streets around the corner. So busy had she been discussing the play that she hadn't even noticed they were outside.

Harry squeezed her hand. 'I love you,' he said with a fond smile.

'Sorry,' she replied sheepishly. They rounded a corner and started walking away from the main road. He was leading her somewhere, she realised suddenly. 'Where are we going now?'

'You tell me.'

She frowned for a moment before rolling her eyes as she remembered the remaining two envelopes in her handbag, which Harry silently offered to hold for her as she pulled out the envelope marked as the third. This held only a card.

_No tickets for our next stop, but we do need to get there quickly, so don't stand reading this for too long._

_Hopefully the walk will help you build up an appetite. We have a reservation at 6pm for dinner at La Piazza in The Covent Garden Apple Market. Luckily, we're just around the corner._

_Forever yours,_

_Harry_

She looked up from the note to give him a beaming smile, to which he responded with a slightly more bashful one. She hopped up onto her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before taking her bag back from him and grabbing his hand. 'Come on, then,' she said. 'It's almost quarter to six already.'

As they walked (well, as she dragged him by the hand), Hermione reflected on how perfectly her boyfriend had planned the day. Covent Garden's Apple Market had always been one of her favourite places in London; the history of the old steel building was almost palpable as one walked through it. The sunken piazzas were surrounded by walkways, providing their restaurants with an atmosphere of comfortable seclusion.

The one that Harry had chosen, La Piazza, was an independent Italian restaurant tucked away in one corner of the square. Its low ceiling and lilting background music gave the place a cozy, sort of familial feeling. An older man with a thick accent greeted them when they arrived and escorted them to a table in the corner, upon which a small candle gently lit a beautiful red rose in a thin vase.

As they sat, Harry ordered a bottle of white wine while they browsed the menu. The options all sounded absolutely divine and her mouth was watering just from reading it. They both struggled over the decision for a while after their drinks arrived but eventually settled on a small pasta dish each, with a bowl of dough balls to share on the side. Honestly, Hermione thought that she wouldn't need food for a week after the amount that she'd eaten today.

While they waited for their meal to be prepared, they struck up a conversation about theatre. Her parents had often taken her to see shows when she was younger, and it was a pastime that she enjoyed keeping up as an adult where she could, but today had been Harry's first time seeing a show. Despite the fact that they had been practically living together for the best part of a year, between her work and his training, they'd never found the time to go together.

He'd enjoyed it though, and was enthusiastic about going with her to see some of her favourite shows when their lives got a bit less hectic. It was relieving in a way. She knew, of course, that they were well suited to each other - he'd been her best friend for the best part of a decade, and she, his - but she was still aware that they didn't necessarily have a wide range of hobbies in common. Finding something that they both could enjoy doing together, outside of work and friends, caused a happy, contented warmth to spread within her.

Soon enough, a waiter arrived with their food. If reading the menu had been divine then she had absolutely no words to describe it once it was served to them. The restaurant's definition of a 'small' dish was questionable at best, but from the aroma alone, she figured that she wouldn't be having any difficulties finishing the serving.

As with earlier in the day - and, in fact, the entire history of their friendship - they spoke with easy conversation as they ate. The restaurant's music was turned down and the windows opened to accommodate a band playing slow, sweet ballads in the piazza outside, almost as though they were serenading all of the couples celebrating together in the various cafes, bistros and restaurants surrounding them.

They both watched through the window while the band plucked a gentle tune for a man in his late-twenties proposing to his girlfriend in the middle of the square. The woman squealed and proclaimed her acceptance before dramatically cooing over the ring for all to hear and see. Across the table from Hermione, Harry flapped his hands around wildly and pointed out his ring finger to her in an overdone mimicry of the woman's show, and they both shared a laugh at his antics.

With a satisfied sigh, she pushed her plate away from her and leaned back in her chair. 'God, that was amazing. I don't think I can move now, though. You might have to leave me,' she told him with a playful smile.

He gave her an over-the-top pout at that. 'But we still have one more item on the list.'

In an instant, her eyes widened. It really was a testament to the amazing day he'd planned for her that she had repeatedly forgotten about the envelopes in her handbag. She reached down for the final one as Harry flagged down a waiter to settle the check.

This, like the one before, contained only a note.

 _My love,_ the note began.

_I hope that you're enjoying the day. It's nearing its end now, but we still have one more stop to make._

_There's a new bar that has recently opened its doors not far from us, and I reckon that a few cocktails sounds like a good way to bring the day to a close. What do you think?_

_Forever yours,_

_Harry_

She looked up from the note as the waiter gave Harry his receipt. 'All done?' she asked.

'Yep. Shall we?'

'We shall,' she smiled.


	4. Homeward Bound

**\- IV -  
Homeward Bound**

Harry leaned back in his seat comfortably. The day had gone even better than he could have hoped. He'd been planning today for the last two months and had spent countless hours deliberating over every part of it, big and small. Everything from whether a visit to The Ritz would be too cliché to what he would make her for breakfast in the morning.

From what he could tell, though, Hermione had thoroughly enjoyed every part of it. She was currently explaining everything that they'd done today to the girl sitting next to her while her boyfriend had gone outside for a cigarette. He'd been particularly uncertain about this part of the day. Hermione didn't very often go out drinking, often preferring to stay at home reading a book or getting ahead with work while her friends or colleagues went out on a Friday night, so he wasn't sure how she'd feel about this.

Clearly, she was quite comfortable, and her conversation partner was being appropriately attentive while Hermione talked her ear off. The bar in the basement of a highrise about 15 minutes away from Covent Garden, and was arranged so that there were several tables of four spaced throughout. Upon arrival, they were seated at a table with another couple, and were encouraged to start conversations with each other.

Instead of a traditional drinks menu, each table was assigned a bartender who would find out what each person did and didn't like, and then go away and create a cocktail from scratch for each of them.

He chuckled to himself as Hermione's monologue was interrupted by a hiccup. Tomorrow morning, he was sure that she would chew his ear off about how much he had spent on her, but it had been completely worth every penny to see the smile that hadn't once left her face all day. To be fair, actually, the day hadn't been as expensive as she probably thought. Granted, the private hire car and the Afternoon Tea had been fairly pricey, but other than that, he hadn't spent as much as he could have.

This place had been an amazing find in that regard. Not only was the atmosphere fantastic and the staff friendly and accommodating, but each person paid a flat fee upon entry and didn't pay anything more all night. The bartender who had been serving them all evening had guaranteed that everybody would get _at least_ five drinks before they left. His sixth drink was placed in front of him just then, and considering that they'd only paid thirty pounds at the door, Harry figured that it was a pretty good deal.

Hermione, of course, had told the bartender that she probably wouldn't want five, but she was happy with that. His evenings in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory drinking smuggled-in firewhiskey with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean had provided him with a pretty reasonable tolerance to alcohol, not to mention the semi-regular gatherings at the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks that the lads had whenever they were all free.

Because she rarely opted to go out, Hermione's alcohol tolerance wasn't as high as his, and she knew that, so she'd come in without the expectation of keeping up with him. He frowned slightly, though, as the bartender put another drink in front of her. She hiccuped again, and he cast his mind back through their time here. Now that he thought about it, she _had_ been keeping up with him. Every time he'd had a drink, she had too. She had also had more of the wine at La Piazza than he had.

As soon as that realisation struck him, he found himself paying closer attention to her. She'd taken her cardigan off at some point, despite the fact that it wasn't very warm in the bar. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy flush, and she spoke loudly to the girl at their table, despite the fact that they were sitting right beside one another. She slurred a curse as she was interrupted once more by a hiccup.

 _Shit,_ he realised, _I've gotten Hermione drunk._

The girl's boyfriend arrived back at the table then, and Harry slid the drink that the bartender had just served him over to the other man. The guy shot him a confused look, to which Harry responded by pointing to his watch and nodding towards Hermione. They shared a knowing smile, and the man nodded his thanks. Then, as subtly as he could, Harry slid Hermione's latest drink over to the man as well, nodding towards the other girl.

Managing the small heist without being noticed, Harry breathed a sigh of relief before tapping his girlfriend on the arm gently to get her attention. She didn't notice. He tapped her again, a bit harder, and she spun around, blinking a little as her eyes focused on him.

'It's about time we head off, love,' he said softly.

She frowned. 'Already?'

'We've been here for three hours already,' he chuckled. 'If we leave it any later, we'll be walking home.'

'Oh. Alright then.' She searched in her handbag for a moment before producing a pen, pulling a napkin across the table towards her and scribbling down something that even she probably couldn't read. Handing the note to the girl she'd been speaking to, Hermione slurred as she told her, 'Here's my phone number, we'll have to keep in touch.'

The girl agreed, giving both Hermione and Harry a knowing smile - a smile that he returned with a roll of his eyes, while she just beamed widely at the girl. They said their farewells, and Harry caught the attention of the bartender to make sure he knew that they were leaving.

Guiding his girlfriend out of the bar turned out to be a trial entirely of his own. Even when she was sober, Hermione wasn't the most coordinated of people, so a drunk Hermione stumbling in her heels was having even more issues, particularly when climbing the stairs back to street level.

The first time he'd been to the pub with the guys, they had all had a laugh at Seamus' expense. When they would smuggle firewhiskey into the Gryffindor boys' dorm, all of them had been quite impressed with how well he held his firewhiskey - while he would regularly get quite tipsy, they'd never managed to get him drunk. It wasn't until they drank at the Three Broomsticks that they discovered his weakness. He could drink as much as he liked inside and it wouldn't affect him too much. As soon as he went outside and got some fresh air, though, all of the booze he had drunk would hit him at once.

While that had been the source of much hilarity for Harry at the time, it turned out that Hermione had the same problem. She had already been quite drunk inside, but now that he'd got her out onto the street, she was completely gone. What was more, he was now realising that for all of his meticulous planning for the day, he hadn't considered how they'd be getting home at the end of everything.

He was much more sober than Hermione, but he had still had far too much to drink for it to be safe to apparate himself home, let alone side-apparate Hermione too. When he'd first started going to the pub, he'd irresponsibly apparated home a couple of times at the end of the night, but a couple of months ago he'd spent some time training on the splinch ward at St Mungos, and it had successfully turned him off from apparating while drunk for life.

The driver had only been booked for the journey here, and he didn't fancy his chance of keeping Hermione from emptying the contents of her stomach if he called the knight bus. A cab from here back home would cost a fortune that he didn't have on him in cash. That really only left one option, which was to floo, and there were only two public floos nearby that he knew of. One was the Ministry, the visitors' entry for which was only about ten minutes away, but Hermione would never forgive him if she was seen in the wizarding public in this state.

That left the Leaky Cauldron, which was the other side of Covent Garden from them. About a 30 minute walk normally, but Harry had a drunk Hermione to deal with too. He took a deep breath and let it go slowly. It was the only feasible option so it would have to do.

'I think we're going to have to go to the Leaky Cauldron,' he told Hermione, who was currently leaning against a wall to stay upright. 'It's the quickest way back home.'

'That's agessss awayy!' she complained drunkenly. 'Why can't we - _hic_ \- just call the knight bus?'

He looked at her doubtfully. 'Do you trust yourself not to be sick if we got the knight bus?'

She cocked her head for a moment, swaying as she did so, before screwing her nose up. 'No. I'm really drunk.'

'Yes, you are,' he chuckled. 'We'll just take a steady walk, then.'

'Mmmkay.' He offered her his arm to hold onto for stability as they walked and she looped hers through so they were joined at the elbows. Instantly, she began an attempt at skipping. ' _We're off to see the wizard!_ ' she sang loudly as she leapt like a baby deer.

'Hermione! Let's just walk, yeah?'

She huffed, but slowed down and they set off towards the Leaky Cauldron at a more reasonable pace.

'You know,' she said, after a couple of minutes of stumbling silently, 'the Wizard of Oz was a terrible wizard, if you think about it.'

Harry couldn't help but laugh aloud at her earnest observation. 'He wasn't a wizard at all, though, was he?'

Hermione suddenly stopped in her tracks. 'Oh. You're right. I suppose he would have gotten himself into a lot of trouble with the Ministry if he was.'

'I suppose so,' he grinned. 'Come on, let's carry on.'

-o-

It ended up taking them just over an hour to get home, in the end. They'd actually managed the walk to the Leaky Cauldron in just forty minutes, to Harry's equal surprise and relief, but when they'd arrived there, he'd realised that their house wasn't hooked up to the floo network yet. The closest public floo to their house was yet another twenty minute walk away.

When they were a more reasonable distance from their house, Harry had attempted to hail a cab to take them the rest of the way, but the driver had taken one look at Hermione, who by that point had her heels in her hand and Harry's suit jacket on over her dress and cardigan and refused to take them, so they'd had to walk the rest of the way.

It was an insult to injury, really, that the walk home hadn't sobered Hermione up at all. In fact, by the time he had managed to get her to stumble through their front door, she seemed almost more drunk than she had when they'd left the bar.

The instant the door closed behind them, Hermione began divesting herself of her clothing. By the time Harry had locked the door and turned on the lights, she was standing in the middle of the room in nothing but her underwear with the various garments she'd been wearing strewn around her like a small clothing explosion.

'I need a wee,' she announced matter-of-factly, and promptly went off in the direction of the bathroom to take care of that problem, leaving Harry standing stock still in the doorway looking at the living room, dumbfounded. For what must have been the hundredth time that night, Harry took a deep breath before slowly letting it go. He had a mental list of things he needed to do before he could settle down, and began to make a start on it before his girlfriend came back downstairs.

First on the list was to figure out where her pyjamas were. He had hoped that this would be quite easy, but alas, Hermione had packed the ones she wore last night back into their box when she got changed this morning. The silver lining to the situation was that all of their moving boxes were clearly and neatly labelled - one of Hermione's more helpful neuroses - and so it didn't take him as long to find her nightwear as it otherwise might have.

Next on the list was to figure out the sleeping arrangements. Last night, Hermione had transfigured the sofa into a well-sized bed, but that magic had since faded. Though he didn't feel drunk, per se, he didn't trust that he'd be able to transfigure the sofa himself and make it last all night. There was also absolutely no chance that he was letting Hermione so much as touch her wand until the morning. Well, there was nothing for it, then. He'd let Hermione have the sofa and figure something else out for himself later.

A hangover potion would be an absolute must for the morning, he realised, but he was pretty certain that they didn't have any in the house, and even if they had the ingredients to brew one, there was no way he'd be doing that. Checking the time and finding that it wasn't horrendously late, he bit the bullet and sent a Patronus off to Neville, asking if he had any hangover potions to hand that he'd be willing to bring over. Since leaving Hogwarts, Neville had taken a massive shine to potion-making, and privately supplied a number of the school's Hospital Wing stock. With any luck, he'd have at least one already made, and he'd still be awake and willing to bring it over.

The sounds of the toilet flushing and Hermione making her way downstairs spurred him into action on the last item on his mental to-do list for the time being. He picked up all of the clothes that Hermione had chucked about the room and folded them neatly into a pile atop one of the moving boxes as she came back into the room. Handing her the pyjamas he'd fished out, he told her, 'Here you go. You get changed into them and I'll grab you a glass of water.'

She nodded jerkily, so he left her to it. Their kitchen items were all still packed away, and he didn't really fancy rifling through them for a glass, so he grabbed the mug that he'd made her tea in that morning and just filled that up instead.

He returned to the living room to find that Hermione had already got herself dressed and was lying on the sofa underneath two of their blankets. 'Here,' he said softly, 'drink this. You'll thank me for it in the morning.'

She hummed but did as he told her, emptying the mug slowly and placing it down on the floor beside the sofa. Harry sat on the edge of the set beside her and gently brushed the hair out of her face as she snuggled down.

'You know I love you, right?' she asked him suddenly.

'I love you too.'

She frowned slightly. 'No, like I _really_ love you.'

He smiled bemusedly. 'I _really_ love you too.'

She didn't relent. 'But you know that I do?'

'Of course I do.' He was completely confused at this point, and slightly suspicious. 'Why? What have you done?'

Her frown deepened as she shifted slightly. 'Nothing yet. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I love you in case I throw up in the night.'

He took his hand from her hair and pinched his nose, shaking his head a little as he did so. 'God, Hermione. That might just be the least romantic thing you've ever said to me.'

She closed her eyes and turned to her side. 'So long as you know,' she mumbled.

'I do know, and I love you too.'


	5. Forever Yours

**\- V -  
Forever Yours**

_Oh God_ , were the first words that came to mind for Hermione when she woke up in the morning. She tried opening her eyes but immediately slammed them shut when the bright morning light practically burned her retinas.

Not once in her life had she ever had a hangover, and she swore to herself that she'd never have another either. Her head was pounding and there was a sharp pain behind her eyes - likely from where she'd foolishly tried opening them. She felt slightly shaky and her stomach was roiling from its mistreatment the night before.

Quite why she had decided to try and drink as much as Harry did at the bar, she had no idea, but she was really regretting it now. Thinking back, she didn't even remember leaving the bar, and was only vaguely aware of how they'd gotten back home. From what she could figure, it had involved a lot of walking, and the way her feet were aching seemed to support that idea.

There was an awful taste in her mouth that she tried to swallow away, but found that feat incredibly difficult. Her tongue was like sandpaper in her mouth and felt like it didn't fit properly behind her teeth. Today she had developed a first-hand understanding of the term 'cotton-mouth', and she wasn't at all pleased by having gained that knowledge. Everything tasted and felt horrible, not to mention how horribly dry her lips were.

She lay still for a moment longer, psyching herself up for a second attempt at opening her eyes. It was slow going, but she ultimately managed it and turned her head to take stock of the room. Her vision was slightly blurry, but she could easily see that one of the moving boxes had been moved right beside her, and on top of it was a tray with a mug of water and a hangover potion.

As the rest of the room came into focus, she found that the clothes that she vaguely remembered having thrown onto the floor last night had been folded neatly on a box on the other side of the room. There was a bucket beside the box next to her, clearly in case she woke up in the night and felt like she was going to be sick. Also, on the windowsill beside the front door was a vase filled with a small bouquet of red roses that hadn't been there the day before.

A head of black hair at the bottom of her vision had her realising suddenly that, for the second day running, she hadn't woken up in a tangle of limbs with Harry as she usually did. In fact, the sofa was still in the shape of an L, and hadn't been transfigured into a bed big enough for them both.

Instead, her boyfriend had fallen asleep sitting half-upright on the floor, leaning into the corner of the seats with his head resting awkwardly on the cushion beside her knees. His glasses were skewed on his face and he was still wearing the shirt and trousers that he'd been wearing the day before. Obviously he had sat there trying to stay awake in an effort to make sure that she was okay throughout the night and had fallen asleep where he was after a while.

Her heart swelled at that thought, and at the realisation that he'd not only looked after her by making sure that she got to bed okay, but also had gone out of his way to get a potion from somewhere, as well as some flowers, and a bucket, and had shifted the box over to her so she didn't have to get up.

She thought that he'd never be able to outdo himself after his huge romantic gesture of having organised a whole day full of special and amazing dates, but this? This was something else entirely. He'd woken up before her the day before in order to get himself ready and cook her breakfast. He'd spent the entire day traipsing around London with her. He'd managed to get her home somehow, which she was sure had taken no small amount of effort. And then he'd stayed up for what must have been hours after she had gone to sleep to make sure that she'd be alright during the night and would have everything she could possibly need when she woke up. Then he _slept on the floor_.

It all actually made her tear up a little. She'd known Harry for close to a decade. Of course she already knew how wonderful and kind and thoughtful he was, and he'd proven that to her over and over again while they'd been dating. But to be the sole object of his attention - to have been so thoroughly looked after, not only when they'd gotten home, but for the whole day before that too - was completely overwhelming.

Never before had Hermione felt more loved, and never before had she felt more _in love_ , than she did right now. All because of the amazing man sat by her feet. In that exact moment, she made a silent vow, remembering the words at the end of each of his notes yesterday.

_I'll be forever yours, Harry. Forever yours._


End file.
